


The Last Charge of the Golden Crane

by MarkShoe



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Malkier, The Golden Crane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:59:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3949753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarkShoe/pseuds/MarkShoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events of the last day of Malkier, and the lengths al'Akir Mandragoran went to in order to keep his beloved kingdom alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fairheart's sin

**Author's Note:**

> This also contains a head canon I have about Jain Farstrider

**Shadowspawn do feel fear. Many in the Southlands are not aware of that, but among the Borderlanders it is common knowledge. It’s rather obvious really, everyone knows that an entire fist of Trollocs would fall dead the second the Myrddraal they’re linked to dies. What many has forgotten is that the link itself was devised during the War of Power, when it was discovered that Trollocs would run away from anything they didn’t know for sure they could kill, and then it was adjusted so that the Trollocs would die if the Myrddraal they're linked to dies when  the Trollocs started killing the Myrdraal to escape the link. That is but one among many reasons why the Shadowspawn’s cowardice is something of a weapon to be used by the forces of the light, foremost amongst them, the Malkieri. For nearly a thousand years the Warcries of the Malkieri warriors have sown fear in the blackened hearts of Trollocs and Fades alike.**

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Akir Mandragoran sat on his throne in the Grand Hall in the Center Tower in the city of the Seven Towers. He rested his head on his fist, schooling his outer appearance to calm, inside however he was anything but calm. Once again he sought to enter Ko’di, and once again it eluded him. Never since he’d learned the method as a child had he failed to achieve it this many times in a single day. He could imagine the flame, he could feed it his fears and worries, his doubts and hatred, but when it came to his anger, it seemed inexhaustible; no matter how much of it he fed the flame, what remained still threatened to overwhelm him. Next to his anger, growing in an ever increasing rate, was his impatience.

Scattered around him in the Grand Hall were some of his officers and a few guards, all ready for battle. He was ready for battle, but there was one more thing that he needed to take care of. The voices of the men and women around him seldom rose above a soft murmur, and they regarded their king with apprehension, perhaps he wasn’t succeeding in schooling his outer appearance to calm after all.

The doors to the Grand Hall burst open, and in walked ten Malkieri soldiers, in two rows of five, between them was the prisoner whom they led shackled across the Hall, and beside them walked Jain Charin, son of Lord Ralin Charin. The young man has already made a reputation for himself as a traveler and a ranger. He was reportedly the one who apprehended the prisoner, Cowin Gemallan, known as Cowin Fairheart, as he tried to escape. The men and the prisoner stopped half way between the door and the throne.

The voices around the room rose, the people started denouncing Gemallan and calling for a swift execution. For his part, Cowin Gemallan looked shaken, something that didn’t suit the hero whose exploits in the Blight were sung about throughout the Borderlands. He looked around as if he was wrongfully accused of all the vile things the people around were calling him.

“Why?!!” Akir said without moving, he tried to make his voice level, but at this point his rage was getting the better of him. “Why did you do it Lord Gemallan?”

“Do what, Dai Shan?” Gemallan replied, trying to look and sound innocent. “I do not even know of what I am accused?”

Akir stood abruptly, and everyone in the Grand Hall fell silent. He slowly walked down the steps of the dais on which his throne was raised. He walked toward Gemallan more calmly than he felt. When he finally stood in front of him he grabbed him by the collar and pulled harshly, Cowin Gemallan was a tall man, but Akir was considered quite tall even among the Malkieri, so the prisoner had to look up at him, he cowered underneath his gaze, but Akir knew it was but an act. Cowin Gemallan was a close friend of Akir's once, and known for his bravery on both sides of the Blightborder. "I know what you did." Akir said through gritted teeth "You used Breyan's envy to poison my brother's thoughts, and send him and almost half the Malkieri Lances to die in the Blasted Lands. You then moved the troops in the Border forts south, leaving the forts barely garrisoned, so when the same army of Shadowspawn that ambushed my brother and his Lances got there, it had an easy time rolling over them, and now that army makes its way across the Heartland and we haven't nearly enough men to stop them." Akir lowered his voice and stared deeper into Gemallan's eyes "Your lies has been called, your treacheries laid bare for all to witness. So I'll ask you again, Fairheart, why?"

Gemallan stopped shaking, he stopped pretending to be afraid, to be innocent, he knew he could no longer deceive the king. “Do you know how it feels for a man like me, a _Lord_ among mere insects, to stand in the shadow of another?” He said standing straight and looking Akir directly in the eyes. “In another time I would easily have been king. If you weren’t here, al’Akir, all the glory you claim would have been mine. My _name_ would have gone down in history as more than just another lord in the court of al’Akir Mandragoran.” hate filled his eyes as he spoke “ _They_ promised me that, all that and more. I was to rule here in their name.”

The words felt like slabs of stone hitting Akir so hard he nearly reeled back, he knew it for truth before Gemallan confirmed it, and yet it still surprised him, his old friend was a Darkfriend. “Rule here in their name?” Akir muttered in a barely audible voice. He let go of Gemallan's collar and took a step back, raising his voice so all in the Hall could hear he said “Lord Cowin Gemallan, I denounce you as a traitor and a Darkfriend.” a few murmurs ran across the room, but not nearly as many as were spurred by Akir’s next words “Unshackle him and give him a sword.”

“Dai Shan…” Bukama Marenellin, one of Akir’s officers and old friends spoke “let me…”

Akir ignored his friend and spoke over him “If you manage to kill me, you walk free, and spend the rest of your life in shame, if I kill you, I have one last moment of satisfaction in this life.” he then turned and took a few steps away, drawing his own sword, his father’s sword, the Sword of The Thousand Lakes.

Though Fairheart was renowned for his skills as a blademaster, no one doubted that Akir was the better of the two. However in his state, angry as he was, Akir knew he wasn’t in the best condition for single combat. He turned to Bukama and said “If I fall, you know what to do.” then to Captain Doan, his first Captain “And you, you also have your orders.” They both touched sword and heart.

Gemallan attacked, perhaps hoping to catch Akir by surprise and earn an early win. Had he been walking in the Shadow so long that he forgot who his friend was? Akir fell into Cat Crosses the Courtyard and then parried with Leopard’s Caress. Gemallan attacked with Boar Rushes down the Mountain and Akir countered it with Arc of the Moon. Akir had trouble flowing through the forms, Ko’di was still beyond his grasp, Gemallan sensed that, and took advantage of it. He attacked methodically but relentlessly, giving Akir barely any time to think.

Cat Dances on the Wall met with Lion on the Hill, Low Wind Rising was thwarted by Lizard in the Thornbush, but not before Akir took a cut to his right side. He attacked with Three Pronged Lightening and Gemallan defended with Threading the Needle.

They were separated for barely more than a second, and Akir used it. Taking a deep breath, in his mind he brought up the image of his father in the training yard of the East Tower, and held it for barely a second, it was enough to help him enter Ko’di. In Ko’di time flowed like cool honey, allowing Akir to analyze his foe’s movement. Gemallan was moving as if he intended to fall into the Lion Springs, but it was a feint, one that he would not have been able to see without Ko'di. Gemallan was going to drop to one knee and aim a horizontal strike at Akir in a form known as Plucking the Low Hanging Fruit, Akir pushed his right foot back and brought his sword up, holding it reversed in both hands in the form Heron Wading in the Rushes, a form usually only used for balance training, but it fit the situation. At the moment of Gemallan’s attack, Akir pushed the heel of his right boot against the blade of Gemallan’s sword near the tip, stopping it mid-strike, the he brought down his own sword vertically, pushing it against Gemallan's sword near the guard from the opposite side, effectively trapping Gemallan sword between his boot and his own sword, he then pushed with his boot and pulled with his sword, and Gemallan was instantly disarmed, and already on his knees in front of Akir.

Gemallan looked up in disbelief, Akir looked down in disgust. “This blade,” Akir said raising his sword “Has tasted the blood of innumerable Trollocs and Fades. It is too pure for your blood.” he then sheathed the Sword of The Thousand Lakes and grabbed Gemallan’s head in both hands and twisted with a loud grunt, hearing the crunch of the bone gave him the last spike of satisfaction he’ll ever feel. He let the Darkfriend’s body drop and he stood in front of it breathing deeply, suddenly he wasn’t nearly as angry as he was minutes earlier.


	2. Clinging to Hope

For a while Akir just stood in the middle of the Grand hall, breathing deeply with his fists clenched. He’d let go of Ko’di just before snapping Gemallan’s neck because he wanted to feel all the emotions that it would bring him, and emotion had no place when one is in Ko’di. Bukama was the first to approach Akir, he started looking at the wound at his side, parting Akir’s torn shirt to get a closer look. “Leave it.” Akir said softly “It’s barely a flesh wound.” Bukama ignored him until he had checked for himself. Akir looked around until he spotted Jain Charin. He looked straight at him and shouted “Charin, come with me. The rest of you finish your preparation and meet me in the courtyard, I’ll not be long.” Everyone saluted and bustled around to get where they needed to be. Jain Charin fell behind Akir as he turned and walked to one of the doors on the side with a glance at Bukama who nodded and fell behind him as well.

A short trip through the corridors of the Center Towers that were sparsely decorated with tapestries depicting Malkieri fighting Shadowspawn, led Akir, Bukama, and Jain to their destination, Lan’s nursery. There were eighteen men filling the hallway outside the young prince's room, all snapped to attention and saluted at the approach of Akir, he entered, followed by Bukama, then he noticed that Jain hesitated so he nodded affirming for him to enter as well.

Bukama stood by the door, as Akir walked to the crib where Leanna, the love of his life and his queen stood, staring down at their son. “I have a favor to ask of you, Jain.” he spoke softly.

“Anything Dai Shan.” the youth said eagerly, he looked at the crib and said “Your son is still here? Why wasn't he sent away with the citizens who were evacuated?”

Akir sighed and said “That was my mistake. I had thought…hoped actually, that…well, that doesn’t matter now.” he paused and looked at Jain and said “I’m sending him away now.” then he paused waiting for the youth’s inevitable reply.

“But the countryside is teaming with Shadowspawn right now, al’Akir.” he said, with concern in his voice “I had a very hard time sneaking past them with Gemallan.”

Akir nodded and tried to manage a shadow of a smile, as that was the point he wanted to arrive at. “But you managed it.” he took a deep breath and said “You see, Jain, for weeks now I have been dreading the death of Malkier, I thought that I could stop it, I even kept my son here as a way to convince myself, or perhaps motivate myself to find a way. But after I saw the scouts reports that arrived yesterday I became sure that it is inevitable, Malkier’s last day is today. But maybe not all is lost.” he looked down at the crib and started stroking his son’s cheek with his thumb, “For what is Malkier? Is it lands and buildings? Castles and farms? No, Malkier is her people. It always has been. Malkier is us, our fathers and our sons, our valor and tradition, our endless defiance against the Shadow. For as long as there is a man that wears a Hadori and swears his life to fight the Shadow, Malkier still lives, for as long as there is a woman who wears the Ki’sain and pledges her children against the Shadow, Malkier still lives. We’ve sent most of our people south, women and old men and children, especially children, one day those children will grow up, Malkier will live through them, and they will need a leader, a figure they can gather around. I want that figure to be my son. It’ll be a thankless job, a burden heavier than we can ever imagine, but perhaps by carrying it, he would atone for my failure to protect these lands.”

Jain raised an eyebrow and said “What are you asking of me, Dai Shan?” warily, already guessing what’s to come, and already not liking it if his tone was any indication.

Akir looked Jain straight in the eyes and said “Bukama will lead a group of twenty of the finest Malkieri baldemasters, to ensure my son makes it to Fal Moran safely. The eighteen men outside and Bukama, and I want you to be the twentieth.”

“I can’t, al’Akir. I can’t.” the youth’s eyes were wide and his nostrils flared, he had oaths to keep, but they conflicted with his heart at the moment “I may have spent much of my life away from her, but Malkier is my home.”

“I know…” Akir nodded but Jain was apparently so mortified that he spoke over his king.

“Malkier is my home." he repeated "I love this land. You’d have me walk away while the land I love dies?”

“I’d have you walk away so the land you love may live a little longer.” Akir said firmly “In you, in my son, in all the little children who will look to you for your wisdom and courage.” he paused and then added “I do not wish to force you, but no one knows the roads and countryside around these parts as well as you. Please, Jain Farstrider? See my son to safety?”

The youth blushed, perhaps ‘please’ wasn’t the most kingly word, a king does not plead, he orders, but this was not a normal order. Jain looked at the verge of tears, but he bowed his head and said “My life is yours, Dai Shan. I obey.”

“Thank you.” Akir said. He turned his attention back to Lan. The infant child looked so small, yet he was about to lay a burden heavier than a mountain on him. He took off his ring, the heavy gold signet ring with the Golden Crane in flight on it, and put it in a small pouch that he tied around the child’s waist. He then touched his forehead and said “To stand against the Shadow so long as iron is hard and stone abides. To defend the Malkieri while one drop of blood remains. To avenge what cannot be defended.” the ancient oath of the Malkieri “I love you, my son.” Akir said then he bent down and kissed the child on his head.

Leanna who remained silent in all this reached behind her neck and removed a necklace, with a locket he knew too well, it had a drawing of the two of them inside. She locked it around Lan’s neck and kissed his forehead and whispered a few words. Akir turned to Bukama and nodded, he turned back to regard his son one last time as his long time friend and companion lifted him in his arms. Lan started crying as Bukama left the room, he stopped and looked back at Akir and Leanna but Akir looked down and shook his head, his resolve had almost crumbled when he felt Leanna’s hand grab his, he squeezed it gently, he needed her strength as Bukama started walking again.

Akir one handedly took off his swordbelt, he held his sword up to Jain and said “Make sure my son gets this. It’s his now, if he earns it.” Jain took the sword from him and bowed, then he left the nursery too.

Akir turned to his wife and looked in her sad filled blue eyes and whispered “Mashiara, go with them.” the look on her face pained him “There is room for one more, Lan doesn’t have to grow up without a mother.”

She bit her lower lip, tears running down her cheeks “I…can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Akir nodded and pushed her head into his chest, closing his arms around her.

Akir barely held back his own tears. “He’ll grow stong, like you,” He whispered “and beautiful, like you. And one day he’ll see us both avenged. Heart of my heart.” he understood why she refused to leave, it was for the very same reason he refused to leave.

A part of him, a part that was born with Lan, wanted to go with him. He had a duty though, his countrymen and women were making a stand, and he had to be there when they screamed "NO, not while we still live." in the face of the Shadow. But he knew, deep in his heart, that his duty was not the reason he chose staying over leaving with his son, it was more like the excuse he used to justify his choice. He was a Malkieri a lot longer than he was a father, he knew his soul would not survive turning his back on Malkier, and leaving it to the Trollocs while he still lived. He knew every Malkieri shared this feeling, including Leanna, perhaps more so than most. The decision to abandon their son probably hurt her in ways he couldn’t even imagine, but leaving would hurt her even more. He wished he was strong enough to order her to leave like he did with Bukama, Jain, and the others -not a single one of them wanted to leave- but he couldn’t do that to Leanna.


	3. To Herot's Crossing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I invented a word, an old tongue word. I needed a word for el'Leanna to respond to al'Akir when he calls her Mashiara, so I came up with 'Shenniry', which basically mean the same thing as Mashiara.

Servants waited outside the door to the nursery, all dressed for battle. They were servants but at that point the only people who remained in the Seven Towers were those who intended to fight. They held two matching sets of armor, identical to one another and to the ones worn by every Malkieri soldiers, except they were more inlaid with gold on the breastplate. At the front of the servants stood Laithorn One-eye, who rode with Akir, and his father before him in countless battles. “el’Leanna, al’Akir, peace favor your swords.” Laithorn said bowing formally.

“Not today, One-eye.” Leanna said, her voice harder than Akir ever heard it “No peace to be found in the Heartland today.”

Laithorn nodded and said “That’s unfortunately true, my queen.” he then regarded them both and said “It is time.”

With the servants help, Akir and Leanna donned their armor. “I’ll need a sword.” Akir said, and one of the servants walked away to fetch him one. The group started walking together down the steps and out into the courtyard. Leanna and Akir walking at the head of the group, hand in hand while holding their helmets with their opposite hands, the gold on their armor glinted in the sunlight and their crimson cloaks trailed on the floor behind them. Laithorn One-eye walked a step behind them, holding his helmet in one hand while resting his other on the pommel of his sword, and the rest of the servants close behind him.

At the courtyard there were around fifteen of Akir’s officers waiting for them, all mounted and ready. A stable hand, a woman who looked to old enough to have seen her grand children yet she too wore a sword at her hip, held the reins to Akir's and Leanna's horses. Akir climbed into the saddle of Ashan, his large black warhorse that was burdened with more armor than its rider, while one of the servants held Leanna’s stirrups for her to climb.

“Alright, men. I want to make it to Herrot’s Crossing before sundown." that’s where he plannrd to have the final stand against the Shadow. Ashan danced a little with impatience that his rider shared, Akir pulled his reins and stopped in front of the gathered group. He looked at each of them and found their eyes cast with resignation, their shoulders a little slumped and there was none of the enthusiasm they usually exhibited before a battle. If that’s how the officers felt, the troops will surely catch on to it and the moral of the whole army will crumble. A strange thing to worry about, the troops moral, when no one in the army had any notion of surviving the day. Still, certain death does not mean one can ignore martial protocols. “Why do I see defeat in the eyes of my comrades, when the battle hasn’t even joined?”

Lurek, the youngest among them, a young noble of barely twenty years, said “We’ve all seen the reports, Dai Shan. This is a suicide stand, we all know it. We’ve but to die today, we ride to defeat.”

“I’ll hear none of that.” Akir said sharply “Perhaps we ride to our death today, but I won’t hear talk of defeat.” Akir tried his best to sound convincing, but in his own heart, he knew what Lurek said to be true. However he also knew to keep his doubts to himself, a leader's doubts and fears soon became his troops' doubts and fears if he didn't keep them well hidden. He paused and looked at Leanna who sat her horse in their midst, she looked ready to ride and meet the shadow on her own, as always she remained a source of strength he can draw from. He took a deep breath and spoke “We’ve been locked in a constant war with the Shadow since the birth of Malkier a thousand years ago, we’ve fought countless battles in that war, this, is but another. Every battle has a purpose, that purpose doesn’t always have to be victory.” the men started to look up to him curiously “As we speak, armies are riding here, from Shienar, Arafel, Kandor and Saladea, even Tar Valon is sending men and Aes Sedai to defend Malkier. Today we aim to hold the Shadow back at Herot’s Crossing until they arrive. If we can manage that, if we can hold back the Shadow like we did for a thousand years, just a few days until help comes, then perhaps we can save Malkier, and even our death to the last remaining man among us, will be considered a victory.”

The men didn’t look like they were cheered up by Akir’s speech, but they did sit straighter in their saddles, and more determination showed in their eyes. Leanna kicked her large grey dun into motion, trotted around the others and came to a stop beside Akir, she hung her helmet on the pommel of her saddle and started donning her riding gloves as she said “The shadow doesn’t wait and we have a long ride ahead of us. You all know that any who wishes to stay behind is welcome to do so, but I know none of you will. So the only choice that remains is between pouting like a child all the way to Herot's Crossing, or riding to our deaths baring the sharp side of our spirits so the Shadow would cut itself on it even while it kills us.” She kicked her dun with her heel and turned it to face the gate "Personally I choose the later." she said looking over her shoulder then started riding away. Akir was first to ride after her but he heard the hooves of all his men riding after him.

The ride out of the city was short, there were people still in the city, and they left their homes at the approach of Akir and his group, and followed them. All those who remained intended to die before they saw the Shadow take their homes. The army was assembled right outside the city gates beneath the Fore Tower. Akir and his queen and officers rode between the ranks of mounted riders and footmen until they reached the head of the army. There waiting for him were four women who had one thing in common, they all wore a color fringed Shawl with the Flame of Tar Valon on it.

Four Aes Sedai were in Malkier when the crisis became known, all four chose to stay. Though they were all Borderlandes only one of them was Malkieri, two of them were not even Green, yet they all chose to stay and fight. Six men in color shifting cloaks sat their horses nearby. They wore solemn looks and scowls that marked them Warders as much as their cloaks.

Akier approached the Sister he knew, Lamiena Sedai, his court advisor. “Aes Sedai, while I appreciate your help, all four of you, I must warn you, there is no coming back from this. We ride to our death, there is no question about it.” Lamiena was the Malkieri Aes Sedai, so he knew she didn’t need to hear this, nor would it make a difference, but he knew none of the other women so by tradition he couldn’t address them directly, but he felt like he had to warn them.

“You say this like we don’t know it, al’Akir.” Lamiena Sedai scoffed “Oh don’t look too grim, bleakness never did suit you al'Akir Mandragoran. Cheer up. Today we can only die, the real hardships will begin tomorrow and none of us will be here to see them.”

Akir found her words strangely comforting. He turned to his wife and actually managed a smile and said "Is it only me or does riding to our death suddenly seem not as bad as it did a minute ago?"

“She is right, husband. Death, is lighter than a feather.” Leanna said, and she was right. They are going to their death, they lived a life carrying the duty that was sometimes heavier than a mountain, and today they are going to replace it with a burden lighter than a feather.

“Alright," Akir said then turned to his officers who assembled around him "Doan, with me in the heartguard, One-eye, take Lurek and Danna and lead the right Wing, Cazeen, take your brother and lord Shavil and lead the left Wing, Sainol, you have the Foot.” everyone saluted and left to follow the orders. Akir then turned to Leanna and said “Mashiara, will you do me the honor of riding by my side?”

“Was there a question of where I would be, Shenniry?” Leanna said.

Akir smiled as if suddenly the day wasn’t that bad. Without turning his head away from Leanna -she was smiling, Light let them be reborn together, let this not be the last time he sees that smile- he said “Doan? See that the king’s banner is raised, will you? Move out.” he then kicked his horse into motion.

The army marched north across the heartland. Akir estimated that Herot’s Crossing was a half day away at the pace he was setting, which he thought was fast enough to allow them to arrive at the Crossing before the Trollocs, although until the scouts return he could not know for sure. Ideally he wanted to move faster but he didn’t want to exhaust the Foot before the battle, as it is they were moving at a brisk pace with full arms and armor.

While the army was passing Herogol Rise the scouts returned, and the news they came bearing was not good. The Trollocs were moving faster than Akir had thought, that way they would arrive at Herot’s Crossing before them.

Akir turned to Captain Doan and said “We need to pick up the pace. Send word to One-eye and Cazeen, they are to leave one thousand lances each, same for us. Those reserve lances are to stay with the foot and catch up with us. We’ll attack the Trollocs head on. Tell Sainol to form a pike Line as quickly as possible. After our initial charge the Trollocs will probably want to do a counter charge while we regroup.” Doan saluted and moved to get the orders to the messengers. One of the scouts was still hanging near Akir, a boy that looked to be fifteen years old. Too young to have met his Carneira and he’s going to die today, Akir thought. “What is it, lad?”

“I saw them, Dai Shan.” the boy said “The Shadow’s armies, I saw them. There are more of them than I thought there were Trollocs in the world. And I’ve been scouting in the Blight since I was fifteen.”

Akir sighed and forced a smile and said “We’ll take a big bite out of them today, so they’ll grow down to a size more easily manageable by the armies that’ll come after us. Good work lad.” the boy nodded and saluted and left. Akir kicked Ashan into a quick tort and he sensed the hooves of the Lances behind him speeding up to keep pace with his banner.

The news the scouts brought were worse than they realize, Akir was sure he wasn’t the only one who’d put it together, and he hoped that whoever came to the same conclusion as him would keep it to themselves. A part of him had really hoped that the forces from the other Border Nations would make it in time to save Malkier, that his death and that of the twelve thousand behind him would bring more than honor, it was always a very slim chance but it still existed. But if the Trollocs can move this large a force this fast, there was no question about it, the army of Trollocs would roll over him and his army and then the rest of Malkier before they meet a force large enough to stop them.


	4. Tai'shar Malkier

Perhaps there were better places to meet the army of Shadowspawn than Herot's Crossing, but it did have a few advantages Akir wanted to make use of. Bordered from the west by the Greater Tarwin Mountain and from the East by the Herot River, the field Akir chose for their last stand was so wide that had he wanted to close it with his twelve thousand he’d have to make his line a maximum of two men deep, but he wasn’t on the defensive that day. He wanted to inflict as much damage as possible, and the plan he and his advisors came up with was designed with that purpose in mind.

Akir’s slowed the army to a halt as they arrived at Herot’s Crossing. It was a mostly barren, rocky area, but it was dotted by several patches of grass and there was a large thicket to the north east. Akir turned to Doan and said “Tell the Aes Sedai to focus on aerial attacks. Mainly the Draghkar but if they see an arrow tell them to feel free to blast it to pieces as well.” Doan saluted and went to do as ordered.

When Akir and his army arrived the horizon stood empty, with no sign of the Shadow's army, but not long after, dust could be seen in the distance, signaling the approach of their enemy. Akir watched intently as the Shadowspawn finally started to appear over a rise about a quarter of a league to the north. Akir eyed them as they came to a halt suddenly, he could see frantic movement amidst their ranks, it appeared they weren’t even aware they’re going to face an army that day. They thought all the Malkieri had escaped, they should have known better.

Akir took his horse a few steps forward, while signaling for the Banner Bearer to stay put. His wife rode up at his right side and Captain Doan to his left. He took a deep breath then bellowed across the field “I am al’Akir Mandragoran." his voice echoed across the empty field "Lord of the Seven Towers, Defender of the Wall of Fires, Bearer of the Sword of The Thousand Lakes. Fear me, Shadow!!! Fear me and know that I stand between you and what is mine. For I maybe a King of a dying Land, but I am still a king.”

The men behind him cheered, he donned his helmet and raised his sword, he turned and faced his army one last time, then his beautiful wife, then he turned to face the Shadow and kicked Ashan into a gallop.

As Akir felt the ground behind him shake under the hooves of his army, he took one last moment to think about their purpose that day. There is an argument to be made that above everything, this was his duty as a commander, to find a purpose. The rest of his troops were there to follow him, but only he had to decide what they were following him for. More than anything, he realized, he wanted Malkier to be remembered. For as long as her memory lived, a part of her will live. He knew the surviving Malkieri will remember, their children and children’s children will remember, and in a way, all men and women under the Light will remember. What they were doing there that day then, was making sure that the Shadow will also remember them. And what better way to make your enemies remember you after you are gone than to put the fear of death into their heart, even as they kill you, and make sure you replace whatever worst fear they may have had before the day they met you. He was here to scare the Shadow, and make sure they forever mention the name of Malkier with hushed whispers. That was his purpose that day.

And Shadowspawn do feel fear. Many in the Southlands are not aware of that, but among the Borderlanders it is common knowledge. It’s rather obvious really, everyone knows that an entire fist of Trollocs would fall dead the second the Myrddraal they’re linked to dies. What many has forgotten though is that the link itself was devised during the War of Power, when it was discovered that Trollocs would run away from anything they didn’t know for sure they could kill, and then it was adjusted so that the Trollocs would die if the Myrddraal they're linked to dies when the Trollocs started killing the Myrdraal to escape the link. That is but one among many reasons why the Shadowspawn’s cowardice is something of a weapon to be used by the forces of the light, foremost amongst them, the Malkieri. For nearly a thousand years the Warcries of the Malkieri warriors have sown fear in the blackened hearts of Trollocs and Fades alike **.** Akir intended to carry on that tradition one last time.

“TAI’SHAR MALKIER.” he shouted at the top of his lungs, Leanna, riding on his right side screamed it, then it was echoed by those who rode behind them. It spread through the armies, every man and woman riding bellowed those two words. "TAI'SHAR MALKIER!!!" Akir shouted again and again until by the time he nearly reached the wall of Trollocs it tuned into a continuous roar.

This day will be remembered with honor, Akir thought, as he led the final charge of the Golden Crane, the fall of the Malkieri. He sheathed his sword and freed his lance from its holster on his saddle beneath his right leg. He lowered it as he approached the first Trolloc he’d be slaying that day. He noted, a second before driving the lance through the Trolloc’s chest, that it looked positively, and undeniably, scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an alternate version of this chapter, actually this is the alternate version, the one I initially wrote contains an actual battle sequence including the plan al'Akir and his advisers came up with, and eventually a death scene for al'Akir and el'Leanna, however I wrote this version to mirror Lan's "final charge of the Golden Crane" in Tarwin's Gap in AMoL, and eventually decided to go with this version.


	5. He who Strides Far

Jain lost count of how many times he looked back. They all looked back a lot. He knew that his companions felt the same yearning he did. Six of them remained, out of the twenty that rode out of the Seven Towers nearly thirty days earlier. It was a rough journey, they had to fight and flee several times. The last time it happened, the day before, they were attacked by a group of what seemed to be over a hundred Trollocs. They tried to escape, Jain led them into the stony mountain passes of the Lower Tarwin, thinking the Trollocs would not give chase, but they did. That was when Lagis Goran stopped and turned to try and hold the Trollocs, in the narrow mountain passes it was possible for him to hold them for a few minutes, and then his brother Trad joined him, and then Koard Samlin, and Jasly Aldragoran, and Tarlok Fellob. He wanted to stop and stand with them, but without him Bukama and the rest would have been lost in the mountain passes for days. Five men, five heroes, they lost them all in the span of a few minutes. The price was steep, but the deed was worth it.

They’d crossed the Shienaran border sometime during the night, before their short night halt. Jain knew the walls of Fal Dara will be visible from the top of the next hill. He touched the straps of the harness that held the babe on his back. How can something, someone, who weighs so little can be bearing a burden as heavy as the child does? Even if he isn’t aware of it yet, how does it not crush him? Jain wondered.

Bukama was very protective of the child, initially he didn’t want anyone else to hold him, but it was pointed out to him that he was the best swordsman among them, that he was the most qualified to deal with threats, and that he couldn’t do it with a babe on his back, so they’ve been taking turns carrying the infant Prince.

Bukama, who rode at the head of what remained of their little group, pulled his horse to a halt. Jain pulled up beside him and was about to ask him if something was wrong, preparing to bolt into a full gallop in the case of another attack, then he closed his mouth because he sensed what Bukama was sensing, and he raised his eyes to the top of the hill just in time to see the banners appear.

First was the Black Swooping Hawk of Shienar, then the Slanting Sword of lord Sovwel Jagad of Fal Dara, and the closed fist of King Naimar Togita, the king himself was riding with the troops. About three hundred paces east on the same hill, more banners appeared. The roses banner of Arafel, accompanied by the single plume sigil of King Paitar Nachiman. There were several other banners in both parties that Jain couldn’t recognize.

Suddenly an urge rose in Jain’s chest, it was familiar to him at that point, since it’s been with him almost constantly from the moment he left the Seven Towers. “Bukama I…” he started speaking but the Bukama spoke over him.

“I know.” he turned and looked at him “You want to join them and go fight. So do I but al'Akir demanded more oaths of me than he did from you." Bukama said with a touch of regret "Give me the young prince and go. I wish I could join you but I have other duties now.” he said while looking at the babe strapped to Jain’s back, and in his eyes there was something Jain can only interpret as fatherly love.

Jain unstrapped the infant Lan, he held the little boy in front of his face. The little prince had taken a liking to Jain over the course of journey during the times it was Jain’s turn to change his swaddling and feed him, Jain felt an unfamiliar affection towards the child. The little prince reached up and grabbed Jain’s Hadori playfully in his hand, Jain smiled and a single tear leaked out of the corner of his eye as he gave the child to Bukama. “Thank you.” He said, and after a pause and added “Tai’shar Malkier.”

Bukama nodded and solemnly said “Tai’shar Malkier.” Jain then kicked his horse into a gallop towards King Togita’s banner.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jain stared up at the ceiling of his tent, particularly at the spot where the center pole disappeared into the fabric that made the ceiling. He couldn’t see it from the inside but he knew that on the top of the center pole there was a bright yellow ribbon tied to indicate that an injured soldier was in this tent for those whose duty was to care for the injured. He laid bare-chested, with bandages around his upper body, a stiff, curved splint for his right foot, and one for each of the three broken fingers on his right hand. The army was camped on the borders of Shienar, it has been for nearly a week now.

The tent flap was pulled back, Jain didn’t bother to look who it was. The last familiar face he saw was right before the fighting ended, the day he was injured. “So you are still alive." Bukama's voice came "We were convinced we saw the last of you, Charin."

Jain turned slowly, feeling pain shooting from his broken ribs, and looked at Bukama, the tall Malkieri had to bend his back while in the tent. “Truthfully I didn't think I would see the end of the fighting either, but I did.” he said softly.

“You don’t seem very happy about it.” Bukama remarked as he knelt and then sat on the floor, since Jain occupied the cot that was the only furnishing in the tent.

“I…” Jain started, but he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. "I am not..."

“It’s alright lad. I know.” Bukama said looking at down at his hands “You rode off to die, the same way al'Akir and the men who followed him did. And yet you still live.”

“I’ve embraced my death.” Jain said “But death hasn’t embraced me, it seems. The Trolloc who gave me these,” he gestured generally at his wounds “it unhorsed me, with a mace.” he pointed at his broken ribs “Smashed my foot, and when it went in to smash my head I…” he raised his hand with the mangled fingers and stared at it “it went in for a final strike, the one that would have finished me, but one second before it could manage it, Lord Lagwon, one of King Paitar’s bannermen, he killed the Fade that it was linked to, and the damn thing fell on me. It was over an hour before they found me. I prayed for the mother to welcome me every second of it. She refused.”

Bukama listened in silence, when Jain finished he said “al’Akir said…well you know. If you want to die it’s your business, but know that a part of what’s left of Malkier dies with you, and there isn’t much of that left.” he paused then said “I heard some snippets of news, but I haven’t the full picture. Is there…are the troops moving north to…?” north to retake the Heartland, Bukama left the question unfinished.

Jain shook his head solemnly “We…can’t.” he swallowed hard and continued “After I left you, we met them at the Left Fawl, they beat us back. We retreated all the way to Jehaan’s Stair and met the Kandori there, that’s when we barely managed to stop them, but only because the Saladean’s arrived before we were overrun.” he paused for a moment before adding “The monarchs of the borderlands have already decided, Malkier cannot be saved. Between the four nations there are barely enough troops to hold the shadow where it is. The new blightborder…” he paused again, and when he continued his voice was filled with pain “it runs south of Malkier.”

Bukama hung his head. “I…I can’t believe this is really happening.” he muttered. His shoulders started shaking. Jain couldn’t do anything but weep with his friend, weep for their lost home.

“What of the young prince?” Jain asked after a few minutes.

Bukama looked up, he didn’t bother to wipe the tears “He’s down at Fal Moran with the others. We’ve settled at the Royal Palace, for now. An old Aes Sedai was there, she looked aging so she must be very old, she checked him. She says if we took a little longer the boy may not have made it, of course, she said it was surprising that he made it this far anyway. The boy is strong, he ought to be, with both his parents being who they are. The Light illumine both their souls, and the embrace of the mother welcome them. They finally know peace.”

Jain muttered the same prayer for the fallen king and queen, and then for all the Malkieri who fell in defense of their home. “None of them turned. At least not as far as we know. We haven’t encountered a single rider from those al’Akir took with him.”

“Of course you haven’t.” Bukama’s voice was rough “What Malkieri would turn and run while our land died?”

“We did.” Jain said grimly “Cowin Fairheart would have too, probably.”

“Don’t speak his name.” Bukama said angrily “And don’t you dare lump me in with that treacherous coward. We had a mission, I swore oaths to obey Dai Shan, and if my oaths kept me alive that doesn't make me a coward, and neither are you but if you wish to continue thinking yourself that way, I won’t stop you. I’ll keep my oaths and help raise the next Dai Shan.”

Jain finally looked up. He sat up, grunting as he lowered his broken foot onto the ground, pain muddled his thoughts slightly. He looked at Bukama curiously.

“That’s what al’Akir wanted from us.” Bukama said “To make a Battle Lord out of young Lan, make him the next king of Malkier.”

“There is no Malkier anymore.” Jain said sharply “It’s already a wasteland and quite soon it’ll be swallowed by the Blight.”

“Were you not listening?” Bukama asked sharply “It is like al’Akir had said, Malkier is not just stretches of land and cities, Malkier is in its people, and as long as some of us survive, she survives, and just because we don’t have a land, doesn’t mean we can’t have a king.”

Jain sighed and said “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps he was right.” he then looked Bukama in the eye and said “I do not want to believe that Malkier is dead either, given the alternative, I guess I too choose to believe that Malkier still lives, and that young Lan will grow up to be our king.” though there are no Great Lords left to cast the rods, but maybe it did not matter since Lan, by right of birth, was probably the last remaining Great Lord.

At that moment the tent flap was pulled again to admit an Aes Sedai, one of the ten or so Aes Sedai Jain saw on the battlefield. She had graying hair, and as Bukama noted, signs of aging among Aes Sedai meant that the person was more than a couple of centuries old. She was short, so she easily stood straight backed inside the small tent. She had a regal presence about her, she looked at ease, and in charge, equally in the battle field and in this tent, and probably everywhere else, Jain thought. Her hair, which she kept in a bun, had a number golden and silver ornaments in it, and they clicked together as she moved her head. She wore a green dress divided for riding, it had several simple embroideries in wavy lines down the skirt, it was finely made, although it did seem to be built to favor functionality over appearance.

She took one look at Jain and said “You helped my Warders get me out from the midst of the Trollocs, when they charged Jagad’s right flank.” if she felt any gratitude it didn’t show in her voice.

“Yes, Aes Sedai.” he said nodding. All ten sisters channeled themselves to exhaustion, then rested only long enough to be able to do so again. That’s why Aes Sedai healing was hardly available for any but the most grievous of wounds. During the Trollocs charge she spoke of, that particular Aes Sedai looked almost on the verge of fainting.

“I won’t heal your hand.” she said curtly “But I’ll heal your other injuries.”

“Save your strength, Aes Sedai,” Jain said “for someone who’s more worthy of it.”

“I’ll heal you so when we break camp tomorrow, you would be able to travel on your own, and someone who would otherwise be carrying you would be free to do something more useful.” she said in a harsh tone.

Jain hesitated for a second then nodded, and she approached. She took his head in her hands and he felt the cold rush of healing wash over him, he was familiar with it, as he’d been healed by the One Power before. The pain in his side receded until it disappeared completely, as his broken ribs were fixed, the same thing happened with his foot a second later. The cold feeling disappeared when she finally took her hands away, it was replaced with exhaustion and hunger. “Thank you, Aes Sedai.” He then hesitated for a moment before asking “I…I don’t want to be out of place but, I have never learned your name even as we fought side by side.”

She regarded him coldly for a second then said “You may call me Calrin Sedai.” Bukama, who stayed silent and kept his eyes averted ever since she entered the tent, chuckled loudly, and the Aes Sedai turned and faced him and said “What do you find amusing in my name, warrior?” if she felt angry, it didn't show in he voice.

“Nothing.” Bukama said though there was still harsh mirth in his voice “It’s nothing, I apologize. It’s just that I have had the privilege of accompanying Lamiena Sedai on a trip once. To conceal her identity she used the ‘you may call me’ trick to get around the Three Oath. If you want to keep your name secret, it is your business and it is none of ours to ask you about it. But I do have a question for you, Aes Sedai, if you’ll humor a man who just lost his home.”

The Aes Sedai stared at him for a second as if considering whether or not to permit it, or perhaps she was trying to guess the question, either way she eventually nodded her ascent.

Bukama's voice became very hard when he spoke again “You see, I missed the fighting myself. I had other duties to complete. I just arrived here today, and on my way I saw banners of armies from Shienar, Arafel, Kanor, and Saldaea. Even a few southland banners including a young, minor lord who flew his own Sigil right next to the Golden Lion of Andor. Of course he only had five hundred men with him, not enough to make any real difference and they arrived to late for that anyway, but they arrived, from Andor. Andor is nearly a hundred league south of Tar Valon." he paused for a second and when he spoke again Jain could tell he was trying to contain his anger, and failing "For nine hundred years the Malkieri lances moved whenever the Tower called for aid, we were always sure that if the time came and Malkier required help, the White Tower would be among the first to offer. So my question is, Aes Sedai, where is the White Tower?"

The Aes Sedai sniffed indignantly and said “I do not have to explain the Tower’s reasoning to you. The Tower does what it has to do, and it is not up to people like you to question it.” she then paused and her voice softened back to its previous cold, detached tone “But to answer you honestly, I do not know. I haven’t been in contact with the Tower for nearly five years and I rode directly up here from south Shienar. I am sure the Tower has it’s reason.” she then turned and walked out, stopping at the tent flap, she paused and then turned her head, her hair ornaments clicking “I will say this,” for the first time emotions entered her voice, it was filled with sympathy “I am sorry for Malkier’s fall. It was a beautiful country, and the people were kind and honorable.”

Bukama bowed his head and said “It is still beautiful, and the people are still kind and honorable. Thank you, Aes Sedai.” she nodded and left.

Silence reined in the tent. Jain stood up on his now healed foot, he flexed it and there was no pain at all, as there was no pain from breathing or moving his upper body either. He sat back down and started removing the splint on his foot, it was tricky with one hand but he was managing it.”

“What’s next for young Jain Farstrider?” Bukama asked “Will you join me and the rest in Fal Moran?”

Jain paused for a few seconds, then continued unfastening the bandages on his side. He shook his head and said “I’m sorry, Marenellin.” he let go of the bandages as the last of it fell off him, he rested his elbows on his knees and clinched his hand into a fist. “I can’t. I know what Dai Shan wanted of me, but I can't be that, I can't be someone people look up to. I'm just a spoiled noble kid who got lucky way too often."

Bukama nodded and stood up. “If you change your mind, seek us. You'll always be welcomed among us. Peace favor your sword Jain Charin.”

“Peace favor your sword, Bukama Merenellin. And Bukama," Bukama paused at the tent flap "Don't tell the young prince about me, when he's older, tell him about those who gave their lives to see him to safety, tell him about his father and mother, about his uncle, about all the Malkieri heroes worthy of his admiration, of that we have plenty. Just...just not about me. I'm not worthy of anyone's admiration." Bukama nodded and left.

Jain laid back on his cot and closed his eyes. If not Fal Moran, then where? Where does he ride to now? _My grave,_ a small voice echoed in his mind, and that voice was right. Perhaps Malkier still lived, but Jain Charin was a dead man. He had already embraced his death, the question was where will he be when death finally embraces him back.

He’d heard that the Aiel sent their Channeling men to the Blight to die, a good way to die, but if he died in the Blight that would just be another piece of Malkier that falls to the Shadow. Perhaps the Aiel Waste itself then, very few men go there and return, and if he survived the Waste, he can head across it to Shara, no one came back from Shara.

A part of him started to feel a little excited at the prospect of traveling again. He made up his mind, he’s going to Shara, and on the off chance he survives Shara, he’ll just keep traveling until the embrace of the mother finally welcomes him.


End file.
